


Leave the Light On

by Aithilin



Series: NyxNoct Week 2020 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bittersweet, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Injury, M/M, NyxNoct Week 2020, references to Canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: When Nyx comes back a little worse for wear, Noctis tries not to think about what could have been.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Series: NyxNoct Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939900
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: NyxNoct Week 2020





	Leave the Light On

“You’re an idiot.”

There had always been this risk. Or worse. Noctis knew— if he was being fair— that a stay in a hospital and a confirmed recovery in sight was the best case scenario given the blow the Kingsglaive had taken just hours before. The reports were still coming in, and they would be for some time; missing Glaives assumed consumed by the firestorm unleashed by the Lucian spellcasters, or by the beasts that the Nifs had driven through their ranks— crazed and guided by Magitek that burned through even a behemoth in hours. 

“Only a little, right?”

“You’re a massive idiot.”

The data would trickle in with manageable numbers, Noctis knew. Condensed and made palpable to the Lucian nobility who had been too far removed from a war they claimed to have spent their youth fighting. Noctis knew that lives would be reduced yo numbers, figures, names on a memorial wall somewhere in the Halls of History as if that was any kind of honour to people who had been ripped from their homes and recruited to fight for another. 

“Hey,” Nyx shifted in the bed, bandaged hand stroking Noctis’ arm in time with the reassuring machines still connected in a maze of wires by clamps and a needle. “Hey, little star, easy. I’m here.”

“I know.”

He did. 

Noctis knew that Nyx was there, and smiling despite the tired worry in his eyes. Still trying to boost up the bravado in the face of Noctis’ own realization of the tolls the war was taking. 

He knew that there would be new scars under the bandages, stitched together and cleaned. He knew that the red that had seeped into bandages now was already stopped— a harmless remnant of the fear that had caught in Noctis’ throat. No one had questioned the Prince making enquiries about a soldier dragged in like a heap with the rest. No one questioned the presence of the Crown Prince of Lucis in the hospital miles from the Gate where the transport vehicles with their heavy armour and bleeding cargo had come to a rest hours after the reports had started to trickle in. 

Nyx had been one of the lucky ones on that tour. Most were still under observation and quarantine after contact with daemons that had clawed their way from the dry Cavaugh ruins as soon as the sun had set.

That didn’t make it any easier. 

“I’m fine, little star. I’m fine. I’m home.”

Noctis nodded his understanding, not trusting his throat or mind to still the barrage of ‘what if’ and ‘maybe not’ that had been floating through the sterile hallways in the wake of every harried nurse to rush from one room to the next— pausing only to scrub their hands with the sanitizer at each barrier. 

“Almost,” Noctis answered as he offered a smile he hoped reassured Nyx that the thoughts were banished by his touch, his tired smile. 

Nyx would be discharged in the next day or so. A cast, a signed order for rest. 

Noctis knew that Nyx would isolate for a few days while the world realigned, while he coped with the realization that some familiar faces would be missing from the city. He knew that they would fall into their routine as Nyx healed; at one apartment or another, Noctis would tempt Nyx back to life with company and food. Containers of Ignis’ admirable imitations of Galahdian fare that would either have Nyx smiling over the attempt or laughing at the small touches that even Ignis could never quite master until he visited the occupied country. Or boxes from shops that knew not to ask too many questions about Noctis’ resemblance to the Lucian royal, who addressed him as ‘Nyx’s star’ on the best of days and ‘Nyx’s Lucian’ on the worst. 

He knew they would eat and rest in the quiet grey of Nyx’s apartment for a few days, Noctis coming and going as needed around the whims of the Citadel. Until Nyx could be coaxed outside, his soft protests countered with promises and hopeful ‘just a few minutes’ or ‘just to the store’. Until they had moved to the brighter, louder apartment downtown, where Nyx could stretch out on a couch for an afternoon nap while Noctis attempted to reheat leftovers without waking him. Or where Nyx would sit, chest pressed to Noctis’ back and arms around his waist, as Noctis played some easy game with a story he could rattle on about for a few hours to fill the dull quiet. 

But for now, sitting precariously at the edge of Nyx’s hospital bed and pretending that he wasn’t thinking about the worst cases. About what he would have done if Nyx’s name had been among those added to some memorial wall buried in the Citadel like it was a tomb. 

About the ruin he would have rained down on the Empire had they taken Nyx from him. 

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Nyx rested back again, the collection of wires moving with him; “I’m always going to come home.”


End file.
